


i fell for you (literally)

by mincuca



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 50s christmassy au, M/M, i tried honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 03:26:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2836322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mincuca/pseuds/mincuca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>50s AU where Zayn wears leather jackets and pines over Liam the diner boy</p>
            </blockquote>





	i fell for you (literally)

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I've ever completed so I am nervous about the response (be nice to me). I tried capturing the "essence" of the 50s era and I think I did that horribly. It may or may not be historically accurate. 
> 
> Big thanks to [Ivy](http://www.dearestziam.tumblr.com/) for being an amazing beta. I hope you enjoy reading this!

Zayn hates Christmas.

It's not the stupid decorations all over the city, or the lights strewn up on lamps that illuminate the dark streets at night, or eggnog passed out in small free samples every other corner.

No, it's because he feels lonely (something he will never admit to that biker gang he hangs out with every weekend).

It's just that he's moved to the city not too long ago, 3 months at most, and he's never had a proper connection to anyone in this small town of Wolverhampton.

So if he's the only one brooding around during late November with a leather jacket and leather boots, as everyone else is bundled up in warm sweaters and scarves and walking in doubles and trios, at least he's got his motorcycle to keep him company (rental actually, he still hasn't got enough money to buy his own yet).

He trudges through the street, head up high, thumbs stuffed in his front pockets and a cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth. He smirks when people make way for him, steering clear away from the man who wears black leather clothes and rides a motorcycle around town and has too much gel in his hair. He breathes in the tobacco, savoring the bitter taste and watching the tip burn a fiery orange. He closes his eyes and stands in the middle of the street, feeling at ease with himself.

As much as he hates it here (with it's goddamn festivities, cheeriness and friendly people), he loves it. He loves the effect he has on people, how they're intimidated by him, or for the curious ones, just a bit more intrigued before they get disinterested and run away. He loves the fresh start he received, building a reputation he wants instead of something carved out for him. He loves riding his motorcycle, the wind blowing roughly against his face as he cruises down mainstreet without having to worry about his mum scolding him or his baba lecturing him about the dangers of the streets. He loves the freedom, and hell if he would ever trade it.

"Mummy, it's snow!" a child's voice shouts near him.

 _Snow?_   Zayn thinks and he squints to look in front of him. He feels it first, a lightfeather touch right on the tip of his nose. His eyes cross when he looks at it, a small speck of white. It is definitely snow.

Zayn narrows his eyes, pulling his cigarette out of his mouth. He's never liked the snow, always hated his soaked his trousers and cold runny nose and pink cheeks and the constant _cold_. His nose wrinkles in irritation as more fall down and cover the streets in white.

He takes one last whiff from his cigarette before crushing it under his foot. He speeds walk under store awnings, wary of the accumulating snow. He unconsciously pushes into a diner, the warmth and smell of food hitting him suddenly.

It’s a small diner, smaller than ones he’s seen anyways, but nearly every booth was filled. The only seat available is at the front counter and he heads towards it. He sits on the spinny red stool, feet kicking up onto the foot holder. _Styles’s Diner_ hangs right above the open kitchen window in blue neon lights. He sees a curly haired lad busying himself in there, flitting around cooking various orders and steam rising all around him. Zayn fiddles with the cuff of his jacket and his other hand lays on the counter, fingers tapping against the marble.

"So," he hears someone say. He glances up and is met with blue eyes and long brown tousled hair, tan skin and faint stubble along sharp cheekbones. He looks young, a little older than Zayn at least. "You here to order or to mope?"

Zayn narrows his eyes in a supposed menacing way and leans forward on his elbows. "What makes you think I'm moping?"

The man holds Zayn's gaze and puts a hand on his hip, and sighs exasperatedly. "Forget that. What do you want?"

Zayn quirks an eyebrow. He's never met anyone in Wolverhampton who’s so assertive and cocky before (the general population is rather nice and polite) and he's taken aback by his attitude. Zayn doesn't know what to think of this man, with his startling eyes and challenging posture.

“Hello? You there, yeah?” the man snaps his fingers in front of his face. Zayn glares at him (he wonders how this man still has a job here) until he pulls his hand away and turns to grab a hand towel.

“Are you going to order anything? I have tables to serve and you’re not making it easy, mate,” the man spits out, twisting back around to wipe down the counter. Zayn catches part of his nametag. _Louis._

“You don’t have to be so rude,” Zayn mutters under his breath, hoping Louis won’t catch it. Well he does anyway, and he stops cleaning to stand in front of Zayn. “I’ll get anything. Cook’s special or something, I don’t really care,” Zayn says quickly. Louis looks about ready to kick him out. And leave him on the ground with Louis’s shoe stuck up his arse.

“Well okay, Mr. Mysterious Moper. I’ll tell Haz to cook up something nasty just for you,” Louis shakes his head and disappears into the kitchen.

Zayn rolls his eyes feels and lets himself settle into the warmth of the diner. A jukebox in the far corner of the restaurant plays softly, the guitar riff in _Johnny B. Goode_ familiar to his ears. It reminds him of the times he spent cooped up in his room with Danny and Ant, listening to Muddy Waters sing about love and sex and growing up on the record player Zayn got for his birthday. He remembers Danny buying his first pack of cigarettes and sneaking onto the roof to try one, Zayn nearly falling off from choking on his first intake of the smoke. He can blame Danny for his smoking addiction now, how his fingers always itch to hold one even if he doesn’t light it.

“Here ya go mate,” Louis muffles around the paper pad stuffed in his mouth. He lays a platter of food in front of Zayn, a greasy beef burger with fries on the side. Zayn eyes it warily just in case Louis poisoned it or something like how he practically threatened earlier.

Louis must have sensed his hesitance because he rolls his eyes and plops a ketchup bottle next to him, huffing a “It’s safe, don’t worry.” He leaves Zayn alone to attend to more customers.

He picks up the burger and bites into it. It’s good, surprising Zayn a bit (it’s not like he had low or high expectations for this place), the sweet and salty taste mixing together for a nice flavor. He finishes it and the fries in a few minutes, stomach full and sated.

“Time to pay up, Leather,” Louis reappears across the counter from him, carrying a tray of dirty platters and utensils.

Zayn almost jumps out of his chair, and glares at Louis again. He doesn’t like being snuck up on or the nicknames Louis keeps giving him. He grumbles and reaches into his pocket, eyes widening when he comes up empty. He swears he had money on him, wouldn’t dare go around without something at least.

“Shit,” he mutters, pulling out all the pockets on his clothes. All that falls out are loose papers and a few pences, not enough to pay for his meal. His face heats up and he feels Louis staring daggers into his body.

"Are you seriously telling me that you came in here, ate our food, and you haven't any money to pay for it? You're kidding right?" Louis says, dropping the dirty plates onto the counter. "Do you even know how a restaurant works or are you just really daft?"

Now Zayn's not one to get into fights, but Louis's really pushing his buttons here. His hand curls into a fist and he refuses to let someone talk him down like that. "Look, I didn't know I didn't have money on me. I'll pay you back some other day."

Louis looks offended and rightfully pissed. "You know what? You can't just waltz in here like you own the place just because you wear a dumb jacket and act cool and -" he's cut off when another man covers his mouth, large arm circling his tiny waist.

"Lou, be nice," this larger man says. He gives Zayn an apologetic look and Zayn's whole resolve crumbles, anger dissipating.

Because this man is absolutely gorgeous, like godlike and so, so sinful. His eyes are different shades of brown that Zayn wants to paint on a canvas. He’s got a sloping nose, is broad shouldered with smooth tan skin, short dirty blond hair, and a smattering of a beard across his sharp jawline. All Zayn wants to do is touch and it's a new craving in his stomach. He's never one to believe in love at first sight, but he thinks this man is an exception. His heart is beating fast against his chest when a warm set of brown eyes look at him.

"Sorry about him, he's a bit grumpy today," the man says, hand still covering Louis's mouth. Louis must have licked into his palm because the bigger man yelps and backs off.

"He wasn't going to pay Liam, we can't let him go," Louis whines.

 _Liam_ , Zayn thinks and he ignores the little flutters in his stomach.

Liam shakes his head at Louis. He looks at Zayn quickly and Liam's face flushes. Zayn ignores whatever that might mean because he certainly didn't cause this mighty big man (or cuddly bear with a beautiful face) to blush like that. He refuses to believe it.

"It's on the house," Liam says, biting his lip. Zayn can't stop staring at Liam's mouth, especially his full bottom lip. He wonders how it feels between his teeth and if it turns a dark pink when he licks it.

"But Liam, he can't, like, that's not fair at all," Louis rambles, hand pressing into Liam's side, standing on his tiptoes to reach Liam's height. Zayn feels oddly jealous about their relationship even though he just met the two.

"I doubt Harry will mind. Now go away and bust some tables," Liam replies and pushes Louis away blindly, eyes never leaving Zayn.

Zayn's body feels like it's on fire and nothing will stop the burn unless Liam stops looking at him (or touches him but that’s highly unlikely). Zayn eyes him up and down, fuck, he’s fit, and notices the little birthmark on Liam’s throat and he wants to suck a dark bruise on it or on the opposite side so he’ll have two matching marks on his neck. Zayn's trousers feel a little tighter now and he smirks when he sees Liam rubbing the back of his neck, cheeks tinted a shade of pink.

"I could pay at another time," Zayn casually says.

Liam shakes his head and plays with the edge of his apron. "It's fine, don't worry about it. On the house, yeah?" He moves away from Zayn, nearly stumbling over his own feet.

Zayn stares a bit too long at the lad's bum until he disappears into the kitchen. He lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding, and his head falls on the counter. He's in too deep already.

-

He passes by the diner everyday. It's not like he has an obsession; it's more of a convenience. Like the auto shop down the street where he needed to repair his motorcycle. Or the record store across the street and he wanted to listen to new music.

But each day he stops in front of the diner with a cigarette dangling out of his mouth and he peers into the window to look for a particular brown eyed man. He never goes in, just huffs and walks away when he sees him taking orders or cleaning tables with Louis or joking around with that curly haired lad Zayn presumes to be Harry.

He won't call it anything. He doesn't think about Liam or the way his shirt stretches across his back when he bends over to clear a table. He denies the little stutters of his heart when he hears Liam's booming laugh and "Have a good day!" as someone leaves the diner.

The days are getting colder as the first week of December pass by in a blur. Zayn's strolling around in his thin leather jacket and he thinks his fingers are going to freeze off soon. He goes into a clothing store (one _conveniently_ next to the diner), and chooses the first thing off a nearby rack. Red scarf and matching red gloves. For some unknown reason, he thinks about how Liam looks in red, ( _impossibly good_ if he's going to be honest) and blushes at the thought. He scrunches his eyebrows as he pays for his items, fingers digging into his back pocket for his pack of cigarettes.

He smokes a few in the alley near his flat, trying not to think of broad shoulders and warm smiles and obscene pink lips. He fails miserably and realizes he's pining over someone he barely knows.

-

He doesn't know what makes him do it. Maybe because he's getting tired of the biker gang who argue and jeer each other more than anything. Or the long nights he spends alone in bed and touches himself until he’s shuttering minutes later, covered in sweat and dirty sheets but still not satisfied.

He walks into the diner, breath warming his hands. It’s a slow day apparently, vacant booths and barely anyone around. A group of teen boys are stood by the jukebox, fiddling with the dials for a song (they settle on _Why Do Fools Fall In Love_ and Zayn frowns). He sidles up next to the front counter and jumps onto a stool.

He’s nervous. His knee shakes up and down, he’s chewing his bottom lip raw, and his fingers are twitching for a cigarette. His stomach is jittery like it’s never been before (the last time was in 6th form when a girl kissed him outside the school). He stretches the collar of his shirt, coughing wildly when he sees Liam's familiar body step out of the kitchen.

Zayn's a bit starstruck. The afternoon light streaming from the window illuminates all of Liam's features, giving him a golden glow. His brown (possibly hazel) eyes glint when it catches the light, long lashes casting shadows on his cheeks. His prominent jawline sticks out and Zayn wants to smatter kisses across it. Liam's bottom lip is pulled between his teeth, brow furrowed in concentration as he carries multiple boxes that Zayn failed to notice before.

He stares a bit too long at Liam's arms, wondering if they would bulge like that if he carried Zayn. He blinks slowly when Liam passes by him. Zayn clears his throat and mutters a scratchy "Hi."

Liam peeks over his many boxes and he trips, boxes of napkins and utensils spilling out of them. Zayn's up and out of his seat before he even registers what he's doing. He crouches and touches Liam's arm, nearly falling onto his own bottom when little shocks shoot up his arm. His hand tingles where it curls around Liam's elbow.

"You alright?" Zayn says. He's awfully close to Liam.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Liam waves him off and sits up to a proper position. His eyes squeeze shut and his face contorts uncomfortably. "Nevermind, please leave me here to die. My head hurts so much."

Zayn chuckles, brushing his fingers against Liam's head (he doesn't pull away and Zayn tries not to scream happily). He might not be a doctor, but he did take a few medical courses. "Stop being so dramatic." He winces at the roughness of his tone. Liam opens one eye to look at him curiously. "I mean, I don't think you have a concussion or anything major," he says quickly. Way to go Zayn.

Liam pokes his tongue out, a small grin on his lips. "You sure Doc? I feel a bit dizzy," he swoons dramatically, flopping onto his back and his arm resting over his forehead.

Zayn laughs, a warm bubbling in his chest. Liam laughs with him, eyes crinkling in the corners. They must look like complete idiots, lying on the dirty floor surrounded by spilled contents. Zayn's breath catches when Liam sits up. All he sees is Liam and everything seems to fade and blur around the edges. Their laughter dies down, just staring at each other shyly.

“Hi,” Zayn says quietly, peering up at Liam through his eyelashes.

Liam breaks out into another grin, eyes crinkling at the corners and Zayn's heart expands tenfold. "Hi."

-

"What's your name?" Liam asks as they clean up the mess on the floor. They're the only ones in the diner now, the teenagers having left somewhere in between Liam falling and them laughing.

"Zayn. Is it always this quiet in here?"

Liam chuckles and stuffs the packages of napkins into a box. "It's a weekday, so it's not as busy. Plus, everyone's at work or school. Where are you from?"

They work together quite well, Zayn picking things up and handing them to Liam who puts it back into the box. It feels comfortable and natural and Zayn's only started talking to him barely 15 minutes ago.

"How do you know I'm not from here?" he challenges back, tipping his head to the side and stopping their simple system of efficiency.

Liam shrugs and leans back on a table. "Small town. Don't really see new faces around here often. Accent's different too." He nudges Zayn's foot gently. So?"

"Bradford."

"Not too far from here."

"It's a 2 hour drive, Liam."

"Oh."

They continue working, fingers occasionally brushing together. Zayn dismisses the way his fingers never stop tingling and the constant need to touch Liam all over.

"Why'd you come here? To Wolverhampton, I mean," Liam asks when they move the boxes to a storage room in the far back of the diner.

Zayn scratches his beard, admiring Liam put things on the shelves. He leans on the doorway, crosses his arms and shrugs. “I don’t know. I always wanted to go to London. Study the art there or something. Didn’t have enough money for the train tickets there so I bought the cheapest one and it was here.”

“Me too. Go to London. It’s always been a dream of mine,” Liam replies, beaming when he looks at Zayn. His heart skips a whole beat, knees suddenly growing weak. He doesn’t know - understand - why Liam renders him speechless with just a simple smile. He doesn’t understand this, how someone can make him want to get on his knees and _beg_ to be touched, all the while want to hold him tightly to his chest and never let go. He doesn’t understand how in just a few days, Liam crawled under his skin and turned all his feelings into mush.

“Zayn?” Liam prompts, brushing a thumb to his arm gently. He’s moved closer to him, their toes nearly touching. His eyebrows are furrowed in worry and Zayn never wants that look on his face ever again. “Lost you there for a moment.”

He shakes his head, licking his dry lips out of habit. Liam’s eyes dart at his mouth for a second (maybe a few, Zayn can’t seem to focus with Liam in such close proximity) before blushing and excusing himself to serve a few customers who came in.

Zayn’s body sags against the door, exhaling a long breath. He watches Liam interact with the customers, always so kind and polite and completely _different_ from Zayn. They’re opposites, dark and light, day and night, a raging storm and the calming sea. It shouldn’t make sense, how they seem to fit so effortlessly like matching puzzle pieces.

Liam glances at Zayn when he goes to the kitchen, a small smile gracing his face and Zayn thinks he doesn’t have to understand why.

-

He buys a canvas the next day.

He stands in the middle of his living room, paint splattering across the floor in an array of colors. He doesn’t think about what he paints, simply moves his brush in swirls and curves and intricate designs. The colors mix together, a startling bright red contrasting a softer, warmer brown. He unconsciously wipes his forehead with his paint covered hands, and stands back to admire his work so far.

It’s not bad, but it’s definitely not his best work. He’s painted the diner, the red chairs and booths, the small jukebox in the corner. The open kitchen window and the neon light sign hanging above it. He bites his lip as he stares at the one figure right in the middle of it all. Liam. With the light brown eyes and the red of his uniform apron.

He sighs and sets his brushes down. He cleans up, scrubs the dried paint off his forehead as best as he can. He slips on a green jumper and throws his leather jacket over it, wraps the red scarf around his neck. He figures staying in his flat is no use, with nothing better to do except watch the paint dry.

The cold winter air bites at his exposed skin when he walks outside. He’s shivering on his motorcycle, teeth chattering uncontrollably. He’s beginning to regret not wearing his gloves, hands frozen and skin cracking. He swears under his breath as light flakes of snow touch his skin and he drives a bit faster.

He’s grateful for the short ride to the diner and dashes in there quickly, revels in the warmth and rubs his arms up and down. He looks around for Liam, frowning when he doesn’t see him anywhere. He sits at the counter and tries to not let the disappointment show on his face.

“Back again?”

Zayn nearly jumps out of his seat at the sound. He closes his eyes to calm his heart, opening them a moment later to glare at Louis’s smirk. “Do you always have to sneak up on me?”

Louis tilts his head to the side. “Do you always have to be here?”

“I’m not always here.”

“You stand outside everyday and you never come in,” he states and points at the window. “Quite frankly, I find it completely weird."

Zayn rolls his eyes and ignores Louis. Or tries to. Louis’s not exactly someone who knows his boundaries.

“What are you doing here anyways?” Louis asks, poking Zayn’s elbow with a sharp nail. Repeatedly. Until Zayn snaps and pulls his arm back, whipping his head to stare Louis down. The shorter man holds his hands up in surrender and backs away from the counter.

“Is Liam here?” Zayn retorts.

Louis opens his mouth to reply, but he’s cut off by a “Yeah, I’m here.” Liam appears by Zayn’s side, nose and cheeks red (possibly from the snow). A knitted hat hides his unruly hair, and he tugs it off, hand brushing the short strands. Liam mouths a “hi” to him and Zayn feels giddy like he’s drunk a whole case of cider. He grins and Liam mirrors it back.

“The chemistry in this room is more obvious than Liam’s boner from the last time you were here,” Louis states. Liam pulls away and coughs (more like chokes), a red flush covering his throat to his cheeks. Zayn’s eyes widen at Louis’s boldness and he wants to laugh, but Liam’s blushing like a red tomato and looking like he’s about to throw his shoes at Louis.

“Lou, you promised not to talk about it,” Liam hisses, reaching out to grab at Louis over the counter.

“I promised to not tell Harry about how you snuck into the bathroom to _relieve_ yourself,” he air quotes ‘relieve’ and yelps as straws are pelted at him. He retreats into the safety of the kitchen when Liam threatens to throw a napkin holder. Zayn stops him first, pulling his arm back and taking the napkins from him.

“Didn’t think you’d have an aggressive side,” Zayn mumbles. Liam’s forehead rests on the counter and he groans.

“You probably think I’m a disgusting idiot now. Because I would. Like what person would do that at their own workplace, let alone at a restaurant?” He suddenly shoots up from his position, hands stuck out in front of him. “I washed my hands after, I promise!”

Zayn lets out a breathy laugh and that seems to relax Liam a bit. He reaches up and caresses a thumb against Liam’s heated skin. “It’s okay. It doesn’t change what I think of you.”

But it does. He now knows Liam’s attracted to him and the feeling’s mutual and that he doesn’t have to keep dreaming about pretty boys and obnoxious mouths when he can physically have Liam. The thoughts send an exciting jolt through him and he’s saying “I like you too” before he realizes it.

Liam tenses under his fingers and his stomach sinks. He’s said the wrong thing for sure and Liam will think he’s the idiot now. He took a step too far and scared Liam off. He drops his hand and gets off his seat, mutters an apology and heads to the door in embarrassment. _Stupid Zayn and your no filter mouth around gorgeous men._

“Zayn wait!” Liam grabs his wrist and pulls him back. “Stay, please. Until after my shift.”

His brown eyes are pleading and Zayn can’t say no. Well he can’t think at all, not with the way Liam’s calloused fingers curl around his wrist, nails digging in enough to leave little crescents. He can most likely feel Zayn’s thumping pulse. He nods and sits down in the seat Liam vacates, eyes trailing after his large form.

-

He falls asleep at the counter after watching the diner fill with new people every hour. He falls asleep to Louis’s sneers at Liam and Harry (less of Harry actually, Zayn’s convinced Louis has a soft spot for him). He meets the new employee Niall, whose laughter is addicting and sneaks Zayn pieces of food when no one’s watching. He cherishes Liam’s shy smiles tossed at him whenever he passes by, little dimple showing on occasion and his eyes constantly sparkling under the flourescent lights.

He’s woken up by a shaking hand on his shoulder hours later. He mumbles incoherently and lifts his head, drool sticking from mouth to the table. He wipes at it quickly with the back of his hand. His eyes adjust to the brightness of the diner and he notices it’s dark out and the diner’s empty.

“Diner’s closed,” Liam says, grabbing a rag to wipe the rest of Zayn’s drool from the counter. “You look... nice when you sleep.”

Zayn raises his eyebrows. “You’re admitting that you watched me sleep.”

Liam blushes at the statement and hides a smile behind the rag he’s holding. Zayn tries not to burst with feelings at how endearing this man is. “It’s hard not to notice. You look peaceful even, less rough around the edges.”

“Liam... “ he trails off and Liam fills in for him. “Payne.”

(Fitting for how he always seems to cause Zayn pain in different ways.) “Liam Payne, you are officially the creepiest man in Wolverhampton,” he teases.

Liam gasps and throws the dirty rag at him, hitting him square in the face. “Take that back!”

Zayn giggles and he feels alive, something’s he’s never felt in the past 3 months since arriving here. It's not the same electrifying feeling when he first rode his motorcycle with the biker gang down the highway. It's almost intimate and special and something worth treasuring forever. This little moment in a small diner in Wolverhampton with a boy with bright crinkly eyes and enticing laughter and a little too good for Zayn.

"We should dance," Liam announces, a serious look on his face.

"What? no," Zayn shakes his head as Liam moves towards the jukebox, flipping through songs until he settles on one.

Liam sways his hips back and forth to the beat of _Jailhouse Rock_ and Zayn laughs at the absurdity and seductiveness of Liam's dance. He beckons for Zayn to come over with the crook of his finger, a crazy glint in his eyes and a wide smile. Zayn shakes his head but Liam tugs him onto his feet, stumbling into Liam's chest.

"Sorry," Zayn mumbles against the cotton of Liam's shirt. He feels Liam's laugh more than he hears it.

"Don't be," he replies, one hand gripping Zayn's hip, the other taking hold of his hand. "Come on, dance with me."

"I don't dance, Leeyum."

"Now you do." Liam moves them through the room (drags them more like it since Zayn's reluctant to move his feet).

Zayn groans, clutching onto the back of Liam's shirt as he trips over his feet. "I'm a terrible dancer."

"You just need to feel the music," Liam replies, a warm hand pressing on Zayn's lower back. "Follow me."

Their feet move, toes occasionally stepping on each other. Zayn loosens up by the end of the song, surely not as free as Liam dances but less stiff than before. He enjoys Liam's head thrown back in laughter whenever Zayn takes a misstep, throat exposing in a way that Zayn wants to bite and taste.

"You need to stop laughing at me," he grumbles, nuzzling his red face into Liam's shoulder. Liam's skin is sweaty and sticky from the long day, but Zayn doesn't mind. He pushes his face closer instead, the smell of grease and a hint of something that reminds him of the ocean on a sunny day. He smells good, Zayn thinks and he withdraws from Liam's embrace before doing anything drastic (like kiss his neck inappropriately).

"That's enough dancing," he declares, shoving his hands in the front pockets of his pants.

Liam pouts, bottom lip jutting out in the most adorable and obscene way Zayn's ever seen. "We only just started Zaynie."

Zayn takes a deep breath, feeling overwhelmed by Liam's mere presence. "Ever ridden a motorcycle Payne?"

The bigger man's face scrunches in confusion. "No, why?"

-

"No, no way, I'm not going on that, it's not even _secure_ , let alone balanced in any way, shape, or form," Liam rushes through his words, cheeks pink from the cold and hands stuffed in his pockets.

Zayn rolls his eyes, running a hand over the leather seat of his motorcycle. The streetlights are dim, casting an orange glow everywhere. He can barely make out Liam's face, but he's positive it's a stubborn one.

"It's not like I'm asking you to drive or anything. You can sit behind me," he replies.

"Yeah, but like," Liam clicks his tongue, searching for another reason to not get on the bike with Zayn."What if I fall off? Or you don't notice me fall off and you abandon me in the middle of the road and I'm bleeding my little legs out and no one saves me?"

Zayn snorts and grabs Liam's hand. He's wearing mittens and it feels soft against Zayn's bare ones. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes." Not a beat of hesitation and Zayn holds onto his hand tighter, squeezing it until his own stammering heart returns to normal. It doesn't.

"Okay. Okay," he says, letting go of Liam's hand. He gets on the bike, hands shaking as they grip the handlebars. "Get on behind me."

Liam mumbles something but he follows suit, hands on Zayn's shoulder for balance. "I can't believe I'm doing this."

Zayn grabs his hands and wraps them around his own waist, feeling his cheeks flare up. “Hold on and don’t let go, got it?” He feels Liam nod, head burying into the crook of his neck.

The motorcycle rumbles in the quiet of the night and Zayn takes off, Liam’s arms tightening. He takes a sharp turn, Liam yelping right in his ear. His whole body presses close to Zayn’s back, the wind whipping their clothes and hair. They're the only ones on the streets this late at night.

“Open your eyes Liam!” he shouts as they cruise into a tunnel, voice echoing off the walls.

He hesitates, slowly lifting his head off Zayn’s shoulder. "It's not too bad," he says, voice shaky and warm against Zayn's ear.

They leave the tunnel, Liam having loosened up and letting his hands rest on Zayn's hips. His voice is confident this time, steady and calm. "Where are we going?"

Zayn takes a glance behind him to look at Liam. The streetlights reflect off his shiny eyes and there's a grin plastered on his face. He can't stop staring but he tears his gaze away to focus on the road ahead. "Anywhere babe, wherever you want."

He hears Liam whoop in excitement and later that night (Liam insisted they go around town and refused to stop until their bums ached) when Zayn drops him off at home, Liam leans over and kisses him on the cheek with a "I had the best time of my life, thank you."

Zayn sits there frozen long after Liam goes into his house, fingers touching his cheek, the phantom of Liam's lips forever imprinted in his mind.

He forgets about the mittens Liam forced him to wear when he noticed the cracked and frostbitten fingers. He forgets that they're Liam's and how it's a size too big for him.

-

It becomes a daily routine.

He goes to the diner, sometimes with drawing pads he found buried deep within his bedroom closet. He draws a lot, often leaving his hand cramped and paper running out too fast.

But he takes pride in his work, blushing when Liam first hooked his chin over his shoulder and praised him, calling him the next Einstein.

"Einstein's the mathematician and scientist," Harry had inputed.

Liam waved him off, rubbing Zayn's side comfortingly and Zayn thought his lungs were going to collapse. "The guy who painted Mona Lisa, what's his name?"

A chorus of "Leonardo da Vinci" responded back to him and Liam grinned into his neck. "Yeah, that guy," he whispered, breath fanning over his skin and goosebumps raising. Zayn shivered when Liam pulled away, a knowing grin like he knew the effect he has over him. Right tosser.

He decides one day Liam's a devious menace underneath all the innocent angel when he sees him and Louis spray water all over Harry and dump food leftovers on Niall after the store closes.

Niall and Harry fight back viciously, spraying water back at them. And Zayn doesn't know if it's a good or bad thing, because Liam's wearing white and the water soaks the cloth through. He takes note of the hard muscles underneath.

He bites his fist from groaning and tries to distract himself from watching their little competition by drawing again. He can't focus, not with the constant flashes of running his hands all over Liam, the rough skin under his hands, the sounds Liam will make just from the small touches.

It gets worse, the others deciding to their fight outside of the kitchen. Niall's ditched the shirt and is throwing leftover food ruthlessly, roaring a battle cry. Liam ducks behind Louis, tongue poking out the side of his mouth in a cheeky manner and Zayn wants to bang his head on the counter and kiss Liam breathless.

It’s possibly the best thing he’s ever seen and it feels like torture.

He goes home that night with his drawing pad under his arm, a smoke between his lips, and fantasies of Liam shirtless and sweaty.

-

He learns more about Liam everyday. Like how he he takes a run in the morning and he wants tattoos some day ('Yours are amazing.' / 'Yeah, you think so?') and that he has a husky named Loki (‘Norse god or Marvel character?’ / ‘Marvel, actually.’) and he has a comic book obsession just like Zayn. Liam tells him that he wants to study sound engineering at the universities in London but he doesn't want to leave his family (‘Mum, dad, two older sisters who are too protective over me.’ / ‘Why's that?’ / ‘Oh just some bullies back then.’ / ‘That's horrible.’).

He knows the little things about Liam, like how his eyes crinkle and his words collide together in rapid sentences when he gets extremely excited about his favorite things (‘Favorite comic book character?’ / ‘Batman.’ / ‘Me too.’).

And Zayn opens up more than he ever did with Danny and Ant. He tells him about his sisters and how they annoy him but he loves and misses them everyday. He talks about the rough time he had at school for being the quiet, comic geek, Muslim kid that nobody wanted to be friends with until he grew into the overly large clothes and smoked behind the school (‘People are mean Zayn, you didn’t deserve that’ / ‘Well life is life, I can't change the past’).

He mentions that his parents always wanted him to be a doctor (to support the family with substantial money) and he told them he took the artistic path. They're not resentful, having accepted his choice, but sometimes he'd see the disappointment in their eyes and he couldn't stand it, the guilt was overbearing. So that's why he left, with a pack of clothes over his shoulder and all his life savings in his pockets at 19 (‘Not too bad, I mean you met me right?’ / ‘That's the downside actually.’ / ‘You don’t mean that.’)

He finds himself idly drawing Batman on a slow day in the diner. Though he’s somehow drawn a portrait version of it with Liam’s face. He can’t seem to get the eyes right and it’s making him frustrated.

“What are you drawing?” Liam asks, sitting on the stool next to him and chewing on a fry. “Is that Batman? With my face?”

“Yes,” he replies, the tips of his ears turning pink. There’s no point in denying it. “I can’t get the eyes right and I need you to stay here and sit still.”

Liam shrugs, and faces Zayn. “Do I need to pose or anything?”

“No, just don’t move too much.”

Zayn sketches, taking a few glances once in a while. Liam’s fidgeting and keeps leaning forward to watch Zayn draw and it’s irritating him a bit. He puts his pencil down and grabs Liam’s face roughly, pressing his lips over Liam’s surprised ones. Liam’s lips are soft and wet against his chapped ones and he pulls away quickly. Liam follows his mouth like he wasn’t expecting Zayn to stop so fast.

“Now will you quit moving?” He’s glad his voice is level and cool, unlike his racing heart and the need to kiss Liam again.

Liam nods, chest heaving up and down, mouth hanging open.

Zayn picks his pencil up again, hand trembling and making random stray marks on his page. He’s horribly distracted and Liam’s the main reason. He grits his teeth and pushes all thoughts of Liam away (or tries to, it's always try with him).

"Zayn?" Liam speaks minutes later.

"Yeah?"

"Why did you kiss me?" His voice is quiet and cautious and Zayn looks up.

"Because you wouldn't stop moving and it was infuriating so I had to do something about it," he replies with a shrug, returning to his work.

"Did you know that I like you? Like a lot," he says and Zayn barely catches it with how quiet he is.

Zayn looks up again. Liam has his lip between his teeth, eyes half-lidded. "I... y-yeah, I mean I guessed that you did, I didn't really -"

Liam pulls him close, crushing their lips together. Liam's hand rests on his hips, the other holding Zayn's jaw gently. Liam swipes his tongue across Zayn's lip and he gasps, grabs Liam's hair like an anchor. Their teeth clash and their tongues are everywhere. Zayn nearly climbs into Liam's lap in earnest but they're interrupted by loud indiscreet coughs.

Zayn breaks away, breathing heavily and Liam's lips are swollen and extremely red. He cheers internally because he did that and it feels fucking good.

"Boys, there's nothing wrong about snogging in here, but at least have some public decency," Louis says with a smug grin.

Harry elbows him. "Louis, let them have their moment."

"Weren't you on our side like 10 seconds ago?"

“That was before you said that.”

“Well Harold, -”

"Oh just get married already!" Niall shouts in exasperation. Louis and Harry glare at him but they step closer to each other. "Anyways, did you two finally get together?" The blonde asks.

Liam and Zayn blush and Zayn turns his head to Liam with a small smile. Liam returns it, and Zayn turns back to the other three. "Yeah, we did," he says, Liam touching his hand in reassurance.

"Finally," the other three groan out with fond smiles.

-

It's Christmas.

And Zayn's not dreading it one bit. He's looking forward to it actually.

Okay, maybe he hates it a little because he has no idea if he should shave his beard or what to wear. And that he was taking a nap and overslept by like, 3 hours.

He's pacing back and forth in his bedroom with clothes strewn across his bed. It's half past 6 at night and the diner's having a Christmas party at 7 and he's promised Liam he'll be there early to help with decorations. _Fuck_.

He chooses a red and white Christmas jumper his mum gave him the previous year and black trousers. He forgoes shaving, grabs his leather jacket, and sprints out the door.

He winces at the cold and rides his motorcycle to the diner, arriving just before 7.

There's already a decorated tree in the corner, tinsel and lights hanging along the windows. Miniature trees are on each of the tables, little Santa hats at the very tip of the tree like makeshift stars. Christmas music plays from the jukebox and everything looks so nice.

"Hey, you made it," Liam says, hand on Zayn's elbow. He's wearing a collared shirt under a red jumper, a Santa hat covering his hair.

"I'm late, and I promised to come and help. I'm such an idiot," Zayn mutters and stares at the ground.

"Hey," Liam lifts his chin up and he's met with warm brown eyes that have captivated him since they met. "Don't put yourself down. You're here, aren't you? That's all I ask of you."

Zayn nods and wraps his arms around Liam's neck. Liam's arms go around his waist, pulling him closer. Liam smells like the ocean and a hint of cinnamon and it's intoxicating Zayn's senses. He breathes it in and snuggles into Liam's body, sighing at how comfortable and warm he is.

"What took you so long though?" Liam whispers.

"Woke up late and I couldn't decide what to wear."

Liam holds him at arms length. "That's adorable." He pokes at a white reindeer (one that happens to be right at his nipple) and giggles.

"It's not funny," he says, blushing at the sudden thoughts of Liam twisting his nipples until it's hard and perky. He thinks Liam gets it too because his grin is more of a mischievous smirk and the room feels much hotter than before.

"Oh get a room please!" Niall throws balled up napkins at them.

"Come on, I want to show you something," Liam says eagerly, interlacing their fingers and leading him to the storage room. Wolf whistles follow them and Zayn rolls his eyes.

The light is off and when Liam closes the door behind him, they're completely surrounded in darkness. Zayn feels Liam grab his waist and he hisses out "Liam we are not going to snog right here, not now with our friends out there."

"Yeah, just wait, let me, here." Liam pulls on a cord and the tiny light bulb above them flickers on. "As much as I want to kiss you right now, that's not what we're in here for."

"Why are we then?"

"Well, the others would have teased me for days if they saw," he's nervous and Zayn soothes his fingers against his cheek. Liam leans into his touch and it gives him a boost of confidence. "I got you a gift. It's not much, and I know you don't celebrate Christmas, but I want you to have this."

He hands over a drawing pad and a pack of different fountain pens, one of those fancy and expensive ones that he's been eyeballing at the art store. Zayn's in shock with awe and fond overload.

"I've been saving up to buy you this and I noticed you were running out of pages on your last one. And you once said you wanted those thin and flowy pens but I didn't know what they were so I had to ask the store manager," Liam spills out, cheeks aflame.

Zayn leans over and kisses him, a soft press of the lips filled with fond and passion. "Thank you Liam. I love it." ("I love you" was on the tip of his tongue too but he's not going to say that)

"I'm glad you like it," Liam replies, swiping his tongue along Zayn's bottom lip. His kisses are an attack and Zayn knows he's losing horribly.

Liam coaxes a moan out of him and he takes the chance to brush his tongue on the roof of his mouth. He's got a hand in Zayn's long hair and he's mussing it up, tugging on the strands to expose his throat. He kisses down his neck, pulling at his collar and biting and sucking on his collarbone. Zayn's hands roam all over Liam's torso, the art items dropping with a clang on the floor.

Liam licks over the new mark he's made, stepping back to breathe. His lips are wet and an obscene red, eyes half lidded. It's hot, all the things Zayn's imagined but better. He pushes Liam against the shelves, slotting his thigh between Liam's, grinding down to elicit a loud groan from Liam.

"Could have fooled me for those quiet types babe," Zayn lets out lowly, hands slipping under Liam's shirt to touch heated and hard skin.

"There are some things you don't know about me," Liam gasps, hips thrusting up to meet Zayn's dirty grinds.

"Yeah? Good thing we have time then." Zayn sucks on the birthmark, Liam's hands tangling in his hair. Zayn's hand trails down towards Liam's waistband, teasing it back and letting it snap against his skin.

There's knocking on the door and a "Liam! Zayn! Are you having sex in there?"

Zayn lets out a groan and pulls away, but Liam's hands drag him back to pull him flush against his chest. "Stay," Liam growls and fuck doesn't it go straight to Zayn's dick.

The knocking doesn't stop and Zayn has to physically detach himself from Liam. "Babe, another time alright?"

Liam sighs and presses down on his semi hard-on and Zayn almost moves over there to do it for him. He's lucky he's got immense self control. He readjusts his clothes, shoving on Liam's Santa hat over his messy hair, and picks up the present Liam got for him.

"Wait, I didn't even get you anything," he realizes.

Liam shrugs. "You didn't have to."

Zayn frowns and strips his leather jacket off. "I want you to have it."

Liam raises his eyebrows. "It's yours, I can't -"

"I can always get another," he says firmly and pushes it into Liam's arms.

And it's better than saying "I want to see you in my clothes, I want everyone to know you're mine, I want your scent stuck on my clothes for days when we're not together." It's terribly cliche but he doesn't care when all he ever thinks about is Liam.

"Thank you Zayn." Liam's grin is wide and lights up this small room brighter than the fluorescent light they're under.

"Put it on, I want to see."

It's tight around the shoulders, the sleeves short. Liam's posing for him, back turned and his head peeking over the collar. "How do I look?"

"Smashing babe, better than me by a long shot." He's having second thoughts because Liam looks irresistible and sexy and Zayn's unsure if he'll be able to keep his hands off him.

He takes Liam's hand and pushes open the door. Harry's standing on the other side, jaw dropping at the sight of them. "You dirty bastards, you did have sex! I'll have your arse Payne, and you'll sanitize every surface in there!"

"Easy Curly, they wouldn't go that far," Louis yells from a booth nearby, legs dangling off the edge. He stands up and walks over to them, whistling lowly when he looks at their necks. "Oh Liam, I never thought you were a biter."

Zayn rolls his eyes and he might stick his neck out more, proud of Liam's handiwork on his skin. Liam’s rubbing his neck, his stance uncomfortable and he’s not making eye contact with any of them. Zayn squeezes his hand, mouthing a you okay? when Liam looks up. He nods and Zayn pulls him into his side, arm instinctively going around his shoulders, fingers threading through Liam’s short hair.

“They’re so domestic already,” Harry coos.

Zayn flips his finger at Harry because now he imagines sharing a home with Liam, waking up next to him, cooking meals together. He looks at Liam, face soft and cheeks still pink as ever, and there's no doubt in his mind (which scares him a little) that he wants to spend the rest of his life with him.

-

"The cinema's closed," Liam giggles in his ear.

“Why are you doubting me?”

They’re giddy off the cider from the party, warm and bubbly as they stumble to the cinema not too far from the diner. They ditched the party after Louis’s drunken proposal of love to Harry, not daring to stay and witness them sneaking into the storage room to have a “private talk”.

“Here, babe we’re here,” Zayn says, hand on Liam’s stomach to stop him from walking past the cinema. He opens the door with ease. "There's a free late night screening of Batman and Robin."

Liam's eyes light up and he's the one dragging him through the door. They pass a handful of people, most Liam knows by first name. They step into the first theatre house and the film's already started. They sit at the front; they're the only ones there really.

A half hour into the film, he feels Liam squeeze his knee. "What?" he whispers.

Liam shifts his hand up his thigh and oh, the film seems irrelevant now. "The comics are better, don't you think?" Liam asks, lips on his neck, his other hand brushing his crotch.

"Yeah," he breathes out and straddles Liam's lap. He never thought he would do this in a cinema, let alone with someone like Liam (innocent puppy dog eyes), but his body responds faster than his brain. Liam makes quick work along his neck, running his tongue on the bruise he made earlier.

Zayn pulls off of him, getting on his knees and situating himself in between his legs. Liam's eyes are wide and dilated, fingers digging into the armrests.

"Fuck you're gorgeous," slips from his lips, pulling on Liam's waistband. His hips lift up and Zayn pulls his pants and boxers down at the same time. He breathes over Liam's cock, watching Liam squirm and shudder.

"I want the whole cinema to hear you." He licks over the head and Liam moans loud and filthy. At this rate, Zayn's not going to last. "So don't hold back."

-

They emerge from the theatre a half hour later, Zayn's throat hoarse and hair a complete mess. He can still taste Liam's come and images of him completely wrecked from his mouth burn in the back of his mind. He's still hard in his pants but he doesn't care when Liam's arms are around his middle, chin hooked over his shoulder and breathing contently.

Zayn smirks at anyone who gives them dirty looks. He knows Liam was loud, can remember the high pitched whines and the low growls that were louder than the film playing behind them. Heat pools in his stomach at the thought and he pushes back gently against Liam.

"Where are we going now?" Liam mumbles tiredly into his neck.

"Anywhere you want."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope that wasn't like boring or disappointing... feel free to message me on [tumblr](http://www.jadethirstwall.tumblr.com/).


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